


Spaghetti Carbonara and Squid Ink Noodles With Seaweed

by usernameapathy



Category: Tales of Berseria
Genre: Angst, F/F, Humor, Spoilers, tag list will massively expand as this goes on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2020-10-20 08:16:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20672183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usernameapathy/pseuds/usernameapathy
Summary: They were total opposites in every way, but sometimes opposites attract. And sometimes opposites have more in common than they think. (In which case they aren't really opposites anymore, but never mind.)Random scenes of Velvet and Eleanor throughout the canon storyline, and maybe a little afterwards. Written in continuity with my other story "dreams of a girl with red hair", although you don't have to read this story to read that one.





	1. Introduction and Index

**Author's Note:**

> Because the only other fic like this I saw seems to be dead. And because I really wanted to use this title.

While working on my other ongoing Velvet/Eleanor story "dreams of a girl with red hair", I have had a ton of inspiration for potential scenes that I wanted to write, but that didn't really fit with that story's fairly tight narrative focus. I've also had a lot of ideas for scenes set before the beginning of that story. So I decided to solve both problems by creating this as a spinoff. Many of these scenes should basically stand alone, however.

Although more or less canon-compliant, scenes will be in anachronistic order and written basically as interest strikes me, although as I add them I'll be updating this first chapter to serve as an index to reading them chronologically. I'm also probably not going to write anything in advance of where "DOAGWRH" is at any current time, so as I write this all of the stories will be pre-Return to Aball, but that will change as DOAGWRH continues. Scene length and tone will vary widely, although there will probably always be at least some angst (because seriously, everyone in this game goes through **hell**) and, at least attempted, comedy (because said game is also very funny).

_Chapters in chronological order:_

  1. _Chapter 4 "The Color Of..." (between Eleanor joining the party and the corsair's scourge)_
  2. _Chapter 5 "Proposals and Modesty" (on the way to Lothringen)_
  3. _Chapter 6 "Scars" (after encountering Oscar and Teresa in Yseult)_
  4. _Chapter 2 "It's Not Nice To Make A Girl Cry" (after Haria and Palamedes)_
  5. _Chapter 7 "A Conversation About Dreams, part 1" (immediately post-Return to Aball arc)_
  6. _Chapter 8 "I'm Suddenly Feeling Thirsty Myself" (on the way back to Meirchio after Mt Killaraus)_
  7. _Chapter 3 "A True Story of Forbidden Love!!" (post-game)_


	2. It's Not Nice To Make A Girl Cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Velvet did NOT knock out Oscar at Palamedes for Eleanor's sake. Definitely not.

"Velvet. A word?"  
  
She turned to see Eizen standing with Rokurou over near the prow. The _Van Eltia_ was making good time on the voyage north from Southgand, and both weather and wind seemed fine for now, so Velvet figured it probably wasn't the ship he wanted to talk about. Walking over, she offered her first guess on the matter.  
  
"Is this about the truth of malevolence again? Because I'm good."  
  
That wasn't entirely true, of course. Maybe if they'd learned about it in any other way than seeing everyone in a small village turn into daemons at once, daemons that she then killed... But it also didn't matter. Artorius _would_ die. That was the one truth she'd always know. And that meant stopping Innominat's rebirth, and that meant capturing or killing the rest of the therions. The consequences couldn't be relevant, and so they were simply one of those things she wouldn't waste time thinking about.  
  
After all, it wasn't as if she herself didn't already obviously have more than enough malevolence to spare.  
  
But no: "Only tangentially," the pirate malak replied.  
  
"Eizen was telling me about why you decided not to kill Oscar when you had the chance," Rokurou explained. "You sure it was the right move to just leave him lying around in there? He and his sister were already pretty steamed about the last time you made him look bad."  
  
"There were still plenty of daemons running around loose when we left. If we're lucky one of them ate him on the way out," Velvet deadpanned.  
  
Eizen folded his arms and gave her a trademark _you-have-got-be-kidding_ look. "Lucky. Us."  
  
Rokurou laughed. "Yeah, I suppose. I guess as far as the senior exorcists we've met go, he's not the most threatening."  
  
Velvet frowned. "I wouldn't underestimate him. Oscar may be a smug idiot but he's still a praetor. Defeating him at Titania was... not an easy victory." She clenched her fist slightly, and felt the unnatural warmth of a white-and-gold ring against her palm for a moment. That battle, and what it had cost, were definitely more of those things she couldn't waste her focus on thinking about. "I'm a little surprised I was able to take him out in one hit at Palamedes."  
  
She had just been so... _angry_, even more than usual, hearing him go on and on about how perfectly logical and rational it was to turn a small girl into a monster...  
  
"I wasn't thinking that much. I guess I just wanted him to shut up."  
  
"That's sort of what I wanted to ask you about," Eizen said. "That line about how it's not nice to make a girl cry, was that just a quip?"  
  
Velvet felt her brow furrow in mild annoyance. "What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
"You seemed a little more solicitous about Eleanor's feelings than usual in there. Not just with Kamoana," (Velvet grimaced; was _everyone_ going to ignore that she had totally pragmatic reasons to save the girl?), "but Oscar too, even though I hadn't said one word about malevolence and the effects it could have on her and Laphicet yet."  
  
Now the annoyance wasn't quite as mild. "You sound like Magilou. Eleanor's going to be torturing herself enough about what happened in there already; she didn't need some self-righteous Abbey flunky rubbing salt in the wounds with another pretentious bird speech. Just because I'm going to use her any way I can to get my revenge, doesn't mean I'm going to go out of my way to make her suffer. Like you told me before, there's only so far you can push someone before they break."  
  
She frowned. "...And why are you complaining, anyway? You were the one who spoke up when I was considering finishing Oscar off."  
  
"And you made the right call. I just wanted to make sure you were keeping an eye out. Working and fighting alongside someone over a while, no matter how you originally got there, can create a bond. I don't think Eleanor's ever going to be fully on the Abbey's side again after seeing what they did to that little girl, but that doesn't mean she's on our side now either."  
  
Velvet sighed. "There's no 'bond.' She's still an exorcist." And she had plenty of reasons to hate Oscar already without caring about the tears running down the other girl's face, thank you. "And it's not like we really even have a 'side'. We just all happen to be enemies of the Abbey."  
  
Rokurou grinned. "True enough. You want to kill Artorius, Eizen and the crew are trying to find Aifread, the witchy ladies are just tagging along because they're bored..."  
  
"Or to annoy us," Velvet muttered. "And you want to beat your brother - "  
  
"-And repay my debt," the swordsman interrupted. She rolled her eyes.  
  
"Who just happens to be Artorius's bodyguard. So if Eleanor's going to turn against the Abbey for real instead of just obeying her stupid oath and 'spy mission', that's enough, as long as she's useful to me. I don't need to trust her or like her."  
  
_And I do not._ Feeling sorry for someone was _not_ liking them.  
  
"Fair enough," Eizen said with a nod. That seemed to end the conversation. It was one thing she'd always appreciate about him; once he'd made his concerns clear, he was content trusting people to 'steer their own course' through life.  
  
And if her course didn't require her to make a certain naive, idealistic, tear-prone exorcist's life any worse than it already was, she wouldn't.  
  
No big deal.  
  
No bonding required.


	3. A True Story of Forbidden Love!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was fit for legend, or at least cheap paperbacks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note that this one is set post-canon.

_"I do understand why the story of the Shepherd is important. People need hope more than ever, and I want to help give it to them. And I know Velvet would be the last person to ever care about how she's remembered."_

The shopkeeper wrung his hat slightly between his hands, looking as if he wanted to melt into the floor. Eleanor could understand the feeling.

"Lady Shepherd, I truly cannot apologize enough for this. We only sent in the order based on popularity reports, and didn't realize until the books actually arrived that, er, the material was... of this nature." He coughed, and quickly added "I promise, I can have it off the shelves by tonight!"

_"But she still deserves to have her story told, too. Nobody needs to believe it, but they should at least be able to hear about her. That the 'Lord of Calamity' was still a person. A girl who could still laugh, and cry, and... love, like anyone else."_

Eleanor shook her head firmly. "No, absolutely not. I... have my own preferences about fiction, but in the end it doesn't matter what people enjoy, as long as they're happy. Feeling otherwise was one of the old Abbey's mistakes."

_"So if you're going to be a storyteller, could you...?"_

She gave the novel's cover another glance, and again felt her face warm.

**_DEVOURING PASSION_**, the title blared. A shadowy but nonetheless obviously voluptuous figure, her features veiled by a cloud of black hair, cradled a red-haired woman - seemingly in a swoon, but with her face 'just happening' to be tilted upward in exactly the right way for a kiss - in one clawed hand, while the other had unlaced an improbably tight-fitting exorcist uniform's blouse almost to the waist. **_Sworn to battle daemons, she found herself in the sensual embrace of their dark queen!_**

Turning away, she added to the shopkeeper "Although I might want to have a talk with the author sometime." She couldn't help but smile ruefully.

_This is why I should be very careful when asking Magilou for favors._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...I'm so sorry.
> 
> There will probably never be two updates in this short a timeframe again, but this idea just grabbed me and was drabbly enough to write quickly.


	4. The Color Of...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Velvet considers the color red in relation to her life. Set shortly prior to the crew coming down with the corsair's scourge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This... didn't entirely wind up coherent, but I'd rather not just leave it going to waste.
> 
> Also, apparently I was lying through my teeth when I said all of these would be funny.

"...and I think her hair's a really pretty color, too."

Velvet scowled silently as she leaned against the deck rail. Laphicet was going on another of his speeches about how the exorcist they'd gotten stuck with was not actually so bad and had more in common with her than a first glance suggested. _I will never understand why he's so trusting of her. He should know almost as well as I do how ruthless the Abbey can be when their precious logic dictates._

"Yeah, whatever, if you say so," she said flatly.

Rokurou rolled his eyes. "Oh, come _on_, Velvet! I get that you don't trust Eleanor, but we're not going to get lured into a trap because of you saying something nice one time about her hair." He raised his eyebrows. "Honestly, I always kinda thought red was your color, what with your clothes and all."

Her own eyebrows lifted. "...My color? It's anything but."

Rokurou and Laphicet soon moved on to another topic - probably something about history, to judge by how quickly Eizen came over to join the conversation - but for some reason, Velvet found her mind kept coming back to that remark.

Red.

Even before the crying, the color had been the first thing to catch her attention, all those weeks ago, standing out against the blank whiteness that seemed to cover everything else up north. The color, and the style, pinned up in twin tails. For a moment, it had caught her off guard.

But only for a moment. The shade was different. The _exact_ hairstyle was different. And thank the Empyreans for that. It was so hard, even after all this time, to look at Laphicet and keep reminding herself that he wasn't _her_ Laphicet, especially when there were so many times where they seemed so alike... But she had to. Her brother was dead, murdered, never coming back, not to be replaced. And she wouldn't take his name back from the malak, not when it meant so much to him, not when it was probably the only thing she'd ever _give_ to someone instead of taking away, but there were times (especially as Magilou needled them both) when she wondered how much it was putting him through his own pain.

So it was a relief that there wasn't much of a resemblance with Eleanor beyond that one very superficial detail. She at least needed to remember Laphi, every day until this was done. She didn't _want_ to remember Niko, especially not in connection with some damned exorcist.

Besides if she did have to think of Niko, the color she'd prefer to associate with her was green. Like those stupid grass crowns they'd woven for each other's hair that last spring, or like her favorite dress, the one that had made it harder and harder for Velvet to avoid staring at her legs as they'd gotten older. (Almost the same way Eleanor's boots and skirt - _**no.**_) Red just made her think of the blood, dark under the twisted moonlight, spattered over her closest friend's body and on her own swordtip. Or the way the one red-furred werewolf had looked up at her as she'd sunk her blade into its throat, not knowing, not caring about what it might have meant in her insane need to get to Artorius. She'd wondered about that sometimes, in the darkness in Titania when she was too tired to hate, and was glad that she'd never have an answer.

Red was the color of her own claw, the palm-teeth and the slick, bulbous veins sinking and twisting into her skin. Always there, always felt even under the bandages, even though they themselves never seemed to stain no matter how many times she killed with it.

It was the color of the stain on her brother's shirt as he fell into that horrible pit.

It was the color of the _first_ night her world had fallen apart. The color of the worthless 'lucky apple' Arth - _Artorius_ had given to her that hadn't done a thing to stop it as her sister and her only real mother and whatever sense of stability she'd ever have had all died at once. She'd never seen Celica's body, knew her grave was as empty as that of her unborn child. (And as Laphi's would be, in the unlikely event she lived through this and returned to give him one.) But she'd pictured it as covered in blood too, the same as the moonlight the rest of that night as she'd tried to rock Laphi to sleep, lying to him and to herself that they would be okay.

It was the color of the hair of yet another woman she'd killed, who she couldn't help thinking of now whenever she thought of her sister. Red and white, more striking than any of the characteristic two-toned hair of the other malakhim she'd come to know. She _should_ have hated Seres, in the cell, not knowing at the time how profound the Abbey's control was over their malakhim, remembering the flames that had burned her limbs as she'd desperately tried to get to her brother. But instead she'd felt some strange kind of connection, more than just the necessity of working together to survive. A connection that she hadn't had the time to think about as they fought past soldiers and exorcists and fellow prisoners to escape. A connection that she never _would_ understand, now.

Her dream in the earthpulse didn't really mean anything except pain and exhaustion and confusion speaking. It _couldn't_ have. But even without that - even if, even _though_ she had just been some malak - Seres would still be another person she'd known whose final moments with her had been spent covered in her own blood, who'd died at Velvet's own hand.

_"A flame burns in my heart, too. Just like you, Velvet."_

_And look where that's gotten us both._

Maybe red _was_ her color, after all. But what was supposed to be good about that? If it meant anything, it was pain.

Her pain was nothing besides _his_. But it wasn't exactly something she needed more of, either. The exorcist would stay a tool and nothing more, because that was all that she did need. She'd never be anything else, just like Laphicet would never be her brother, just like the others would never be her friends. All she had to do - all she needed - was to last until she got her revenge and saw one more body covered in blood. 

_You're wrong, Rokurou. It **would** be a trap to think anything else about her beyond what she is..._


	5. Proposals and Modesty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eleanor has problems.

"So, not that I'm listening to my dumb dad or anything, but... if you ARE going to be staying around Port Reneed for a bit, you want to get a bite to eat sometime or something? I mean, uh, if you want, Miss Exorcist."

Eleanor gave the young man her best polite smile. They needed to be on their way quickly to intercept Eizen and the other malak, Zaveid, before they could run into whatever trap the Abbey had set (though the whole idea of the Abbey setting a trap for malakhim still baffled her), but there was no need to be rude. "That's a kind offer, but I'm afraid I'm just passing through."

"You sure? It could just be a quick bite. There's this new place that just opened serving Hellawesian seafood - "

On the other hand, they _were_ in a hurry...

A dark figure appeared at her side and the young man backed up. While Eizen and the yaksha Rokurou were the group's physically largest members, for sheer intimidating presence none of them could **loom** quite as well as Velvet Crowe. "She said she's not interested. Get lost," the daemon growled.

As they hurried on towards the town gates and out into the fens beyond, Eleanor side-eyed the daemon woman. "You didn't have to be quite so... threatening about it."

"We've lost enough time already. I can't have Laphicet's vessel dawdling to flirt with some random twerp," Velvet said. She side-eyed Eleanor in turn. "Besides, you weren't actually interested in that guy, were you?"

"Not at all," Eleanor admitted. "I still think you were overly cynical about that former bandit we met before, but this sort of thing _has_ been an occasional hazard in my time as an Abbey inspector."

"Really?" Rokurou offered as he fell in alongside, wearing a slight grin. Again she was struck by how oddly human his demeanor was at most times. "You're not even a little bit flattered by the attention?"

"Perhaps slightly, but I cannot spare the time to be interested in such things."

"So, what, no boyfriend back at Abbey HQ?"

She resisted the temptation to roll her eyes and kept silent.

"No... _girl_friend back at Abbey HQ?"

She suppressed a wince. "Stop talking."

Rokurou grinned. "Whoa, touchy."

The group fell into silence as they continued on the path towards the caves that were the quickest route to the Burnack Plateau. Though located in relative proximity to Lothringen, she'd never been in this particular area before, and for a time she took in the surroundings. Despite the beautiful day, however, the marsh quickly grew monotonous, and her gaze soon found itself drifting forward.

Specifically, in the direction of their party's leader.

Eleanor shook her head and sternly admonished herself to remember the simple existence of proper decorum, let alone the fact that Velvet was an extraordinarily dangerous daemon. But it would have helped if she had looked more like one, instead of a girl her own age with extraordinarily long, extraordinarily dark hair that somehow seemed to keep a silken sheen despite the fact that Velvet rarely seemed to do anything in the way of care for it. Not to mention a completely inappropriate outfit that, even from the back with her coat on, had far too many rips and tears showing glimpses of smooth, lithe -

_Gah._

She shook her head again and realized that she had stopped walking only when Velvet turned back to face her. Which did not help _in the slightest_. She kept her eyes very firmly fixed on the daemon's face and absolutely nowhere lower.

"You're not still not entirely over the corsair's scourge or something, are you?" Velvet sounded more annoyed than genuinely angry, although there was another note under that Eleanor couldn't quite place. "Because I can't believe that this is the best you could come up with if you were deliberately trying to slow us down."

"Oh, no, sorry," Eleanor replied quickly. "I didn't mean to stop." She hefted her spear and fell back into a walk. As Velvet turned forward and they all got moving again, she heaved a silent sigh of relief and added "I was wondering a little, though. Have you... given any more thought to my proposal to mend your clothes sometime?"

"_That's_ what you were thinking about?" Velvet glanced back, expression flat with incredulity. "Let's think about that when we're back on the ship. Or at least not walking into a trap."

Her pace accelerated, and Eleanor found herself again next to Rokurou, who stared at her with an equally flat look. "We're about to head into a probable ambush the Abbey's set for two greater malakhim, and maybe the rest of us too, and you're worried about sewing? This is exactly why I will never understand women."

She reddened. "I know you're a daemon and an outlaw, but doesn't it bother you at _all_?"

Rokurou looked baffled. "Doesn't what bother me?"

"Velvet's clothing! I realize she's a daemon as well, and doesn't experience normal reactions to heat or cold anymore, but she should still have some decency! Her clothing is entirely inappropriate to wear in public, especially around a young boy such as Laphicet." Or technically malak, but she wasn't certain what the difference was anymore. Though that was an entirely separate problem - 

"THAT's what's bothering you?" The yaksha looked even more baffled.

Eleanor clenched a gloved fist. "You _don't_ find the nature of her attire distracting?"

Rokurou shrugged. "Well, after a few years staring mostly at a prison wall, I don't totally mind the view, but nah, can't say it bothers me. Not much more than Magilou at any rate - "

("HEY!" exclaimed a female voice from behind them. "What do you mean, bothers you _more_ than me?")

" - and I don't see you complaining about her."

"Trying to get Magilou to behave in a civil manner is a lost cause," Eleanor asserted irritately. (This, to her total lack of surprise, did _not_ prompt an outburst). "But I don't know why Velvet feels the need to dress in such an immodest way. I'm aware she has some personal attachment to her clothing, but nevertheless..."

"Look, if it distracts you that much, just don't look at her," the swordsman offered.

"I didn't say anything about _my_ being distracted!" she exclaimed with some heat. Albeit as much in her face as in her voice.

Rokurou gave her another flat look. "...Yeah, that sounded convincing."

Deciding that he, too, was a lost cause - at least in this case - Eleanor dropped the subject and fixed her gaze firmly on the road ahead. Which unfortunately also happened to be where the torn halves of Velvet's lower coat were exposing flashes of long, muscled legs -

_I **hate** daemons._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A shout-out to [this comic](http://head-of-menagerie.tumblr.com/post/162395794443/eleanor-plz) (not sure if it's official or doujinshi) for inspiring the bit with Magilou getting mad that nobody's bothered by HER clothes.


	6. Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Velvet makes sure Eleanor isn't contacting the Abbey while in the bath.

"I can't believe you're seriously doing this." Eleanor folded her arms across her chest in a way that didn't particularly alleviate any of Velvet's more private concerns about this whole business. "Do you honestly think I have a secret communications method with the Abbey that only works in the bath?"

Her expression did seem more naturally flustered than guilty in any meaningful sense (and Velvet had already concluded pretty firmly by now that Eleanor was _not_ a good liar). And if there was faintly visible perspiration on her skin, it seemed more than likely to be a simple result of the heat of the day in Yseult, a heat that was only now starting to subside with a gentle evening ocean breeze coming through the inn's window.

On the other hand, Eleanor's whole presence - existence - _was_ a lie, wasn't it? She was a devoted follower of the man who'd built his entire new world order upon the secret murder of a little boy. Sure, she was still the same crybaby who couldn't quite bring herself to blithely go along with the Abbey's notion of "necessary sacrifices", and Velvet had seen the cracks widen as they'd all journeyed together and seen more hints at the Abbey's ugly little secrets. But they had hardly widened enough to get the other woman to admit the _other_ set of orders she was operating under. And she certainly wasn't going to take the chance that Artorius hadn't passed more of his skill at betrayal to his disciple than she assumed.

They had already spent most of the day searching the city when Magilou finally happened to mention the very important detail that her old friend Grimoirh wasn't actually human, so Velvet had decided that they might as well spend the night at an inn, and finish tracking down the normin tomorrow. Unfortunately, that did mean attending to... certain increased precautions... the witch had been very quick to remind her of.

Velvet shrugged in response to the exorcist. "Not really, no. But I'd be a fool to take your word for it. Oscar and Teresa, of all exorcists, just happening to show up here at the same time we do?"

Eleanor clenched one hand tightly. "I swore to follow your orders-"

"And you immediately tried to weasel your way out of it." She was mildly satisfied to be able to mention that little incident without a change in her expression. After all the time they'd spent dragging the exorcist around with them, it hadn't been all that surprising when Eleanor had joined the collection of remembered and potential deaths in her nightmares, but still, the thought of what could have happened to Laphicet if his vessel died -

_Not mentioning the vessel herself -_

She shook her head to dispel the annoying half-thought and gestured at the bathroom door. "Quit stalling and get in the bath. It's not like this is my idea of a fun way to spend the evening either. But would you prefer if it was Magilou?"

Eleanor pulled a face. "I suppose not."

She pulled open the door with almost as exaggerated a show of reluctance as she'd had drinking sale'tomah before making her way inside. _Honestly._ It was almost like taking care of-

Velvet shook her head again, followed at a brisk pace, and shut (and locked) the door behind them, turning to see that Eleanor had pulled off her gloves and stuck one hand into the bath to test the water's temperature. A passing corner of her mind noted that she hadn't seen the exorcist's hands without her gloves before; they were more callused than she would have expected. Though in hindsight it made sense, swinging that spear around -

She refocused and saw that though Eleanor had unfastened the very top of her uniform, she was still hesitating at the bath's rim, one arm reaching across to hold the other. "What is your _problem?_" Of course, she'd managed to learn (or at least have an extremely strong hunch) about what _part_ of that problem was. She'd lost one of her senses, but she certainly wasn't blind, or deaf to the other girl's complaints about her clothing. It was why she hadn't bothered with a "it's just us girls" comment. On the other hand, though, whatever oaths she'd taken, Eleanor was still an exorcist with a blind loyalty to the ideals of a lying murderer. And she herself was still, and always, a daemon. That part of her humanity had been dead for years, whatever annoying physical responses she still had traces of from time to time.

"Look, I'll turn my back if you want," she began, but Eleanor shook her head. With a defiant expression, she unlaced the rest of her uniform top and pulled it down, revealing what Velvet had to admit was-

_No._

A surprisingly well-toned, both curved and strong-

_ **No.** _

And a scar. Or really a series of scars, a long, jagged, uneven set of gashes - claw marks? - that stretched diagonally across her whole upper body. Pale enough that they had to be very old, but also still visible enough that the wound that had delivered them would have to have been very severe. There were other faint scars as well - Eleanor had been in her share of fights, and then some - but none of them were nearly as noticeable.

The exorcist glared at her, angry green gaze seeming to challenge Velvet to say something. The silence held for a moment, then the daemon deliberately let herself shrug and turn away. "I've seen worse."

And she had. Every time she unwound the wrappings on her own arm, for instance.

Eleanor finished undressing while Velvet looked away and let herself into the bath. The water didn't rise up high enough to conceal all of her scar, but it came close enough that a certain tension seemed to go out of her shoulders. (Shoulders that themselves, now that they were bare, seemed - _**NO.**_) For a longer moment, there was silence again as Eleanor got on with letting the water clean her of a day that, if not particularly exhausting, had certainly left more than its share of sweat and grime. 

Velvet considered undressing herself, but only for a moment. There was enough room in the bath for both of them, and it wasn't like she was especially concerned about Eleanor's obvious... awareness of her body, but letting herself in with an exorcist, totally exposed and vulnerable? Even if Eleanor was being entirely truthful about her lack of contact with the Abbey - even if she somehow managed to abandon Artorius completely - she couldn't be trusted that much. No one could be trusted that much. It hadn't been one of "Arthur's" formal maxims, but it was even more important than his other lessons.

After a bit, though, she noticed that Eleanor, concentrating as she was on the bath, seemed to keep darting quick glances in her direction. 

Specifically, in the direction of her abdomen.

She snorted. "Really? Ogling girls in the bath? Kind of inappropriate for a high-and-mighty exorcist praetor, isn't it?"

Eleanor's face turned roughly the same shade as her hair. "N-no, I wasn't - it wasn't something like _that!_ It's just - I keep thinking, I can't see your scar at all."

Velvet blinked. "_My_ scar?"

"From where Lord Artorius stabbed you. He ran you through completely at the Empyrean's Throne only a couple of weeks ago, but now I can't even tell where, exactly. I know Laphicet healed you, but..." Eleanor paused and bit her lip, perhaps wondering if she'd been too straightforward about what might have been a sensitive subject.

_As if that bothered me. Least of all from her._

Velvet smiled without any humor behind it. "That's one of the... side benefits of my nature. I noticed it years ago. My wounds seem to heal a little faster than a human's would, and they heal more cleanly as well. I don't have any scars except the ones I got back when I was still human." She glanced over at her bandaged arm. "And this, I guess."

Eleanor blinked. "Your arm? I don't understand."

Velvet kept her voice carefully even. "My arm didn't turn into this when I became a daemon, the way most people turn into monsters. This grew in place of the arm I was born with. After your precious Shepherd cut it off because I wouldn't let my brother go."

Despite the heat of the bath, Eleanor's face - predictably - paled. "I... I don't believe you."

Velvet shrugged again. "I figured you wouldn't. It's still true."

There was again a lingering silence, this one a little more tense. Still, Velvet was fine with that. She'd already come to the conclusion that this whole thing was a waste of time, and very probably just Magilou trying to provoke her again. Apart from anything else, if Eleanor had somehow been responsible for Oscar arriving in Southgand, why had he just went off to some other Abbey base instead of confronting them? And as far as other concerns went, she was generally just as happy not to talk. It was so much easier to stay focused when everyone was being silent.

So it was to some surprise that she heard herself say "Hey, that scar?"

Eleanor looked up. "What about it?"

Velvet hesitated, but in for one gald - "I assumed you got that fighting daemons as an exorcist, but it's too old. How-"

Eleanor grimaced. "Still daemons. Just earlier. Not long after the Opening, they attacked my village. They destroyed everything."

Velvet stifled the memories that sentence (spoken in a very familiar tone, casual but with underlying pain) brought to mind. "How did you survive?"

Eleanor's gaze dropped. "For years, part of me thought I shouldn't have. My mother - after I was wounded, she led them away, and..." There was no need for the sentence to finish. Again Velvet had to fight a sudden, unhelpful surge of empathy. At least for Eleanor it had all been out of her hands. _She_ hadn't been responsible for the attack herself. _She_ hadn't had the chance to stop it all, to protect her family, if she just could have somehow known...

"That's why I do this. Fight daemons." There was a hesitation just long enough to hear the absence of the words _like you._ "So no one else will have to go through what I did." She met Velvet's gaze. "It's why, no matter what I go through, my convictions will not waver."

_So she's in this for revenge too. Figures. _Still...

Velvet looked back at her. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry about your mother and your village."

"Thank you," Eleanor replied simply.

Velvet looked away again. "And for whatever this is worth - we shouldn't have to do this again. Oscar probably really _is_ just here to deal with that super-daemon that's been giving the Abbey trouble that we heard about. I'm not going to be stupid enough to start trusting you, but it's not like I can really trust anyone else either. I know you're not contacting the Abbey in the bath." She stood up. "Just keep the water heated for when you're done. I'll need it myself."

She glanced at her bandaged arm and stifled a sigh. "And then make sure to get some rest. It's going to be another long day tomorrow, and I need Laphicet sharp." A pause. "...And his vessel too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is kinda an obvious "missing scene", and I don't know if I really brought anything to the table here that hasn't already been done. But eh.
> 
> Also, quick PSA unrelated to this story specifically - I've noticed people occasionally dropping by and leaving kudos on works I haven't updated in a while, and I want to reiterate what I've said before: kudos are nicer, but comments are nicer! I promise, I won't think it's weird if you leave a comment on a work or chapter long after I uploaded it.


	7. A Conversation About Dreams, part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The night after leaving the dream Aball behind, Velvet and Eleanor have a conversation. Perspective flip of the last scene in Chapter 3 of "dreams of a girl with red hair."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's my Berseria anniversary update. I've been toying with the idea of rewriting one of the scenes in "DOAGWRH" from Velvet's POV, and I thought I'd try it out. Dunno about the results - I'm not sure it brought enough new stuff to the table to outweigh losing the reader's imagination factor - so while I'll probably do the second part at some point, it might not be soon. Now that they've actually kissed there's a scene I've been wanting to write for a while, to say nothing of updating DOAGWRH itself.
> 
> BTW, I'm curious whether anyone can spot the continuity error in the original chapter that I've preserved here for consistency's sake.

The periodic howls coming from the inn tore at her already-ragged nerves, but Velvet didn't really mind. It was hardly equal to the balance of her crimes. And not just three years ago, for that matter. It didn't even come close to what she'd done the last time she was in Aball, but the way she'd acted in the village yesterday...

_You knew. You **knew** from the very beginning it was a lie._ For three years she'd seen Laphi die in her dreams, over and over again. He wasn't 'hurt'. He wasn't 'unconscious'. He was stabbed through the heart and dropped into that... that pit in the shrine. There wasn't even a body she could...

_And it's not just him. Even before, you knew. How many times have you killed Niko in your dreams?_ Her eyes closed for a moment and she pressed her bandaged fist into the hard stone of the bench. _One more now, I suppose._ She'd told the others that she couldn't be sure what had happened to the other villagers on that night, but she'd known she'd been lying. She remembered. There was nothing about it she could ever forget. The red moonlight and the way it made the stains so much darker. The disgusting writhing of her new arm. The taste of blood... stirring her for the first time.

Artorius's voice.

She'd let herself believe a lie. Again. After all this time of knowing how easy it was to be betrayed, never letting... And all it had taken was just feeling good.

(The sight of the familiar peaked roofs, undamaged.)

(The smell of the flowers.)

(Niko's arms around her, head resting against her chest - )

The footsteps drew her attention. She didn't need to bother to turn - she didn't even need her enhanced senses as a daemon - to identify them. Eleanor. Of all their group, only she and Laphicet still were capable of that... hesitation, and they were much too heavy to be Phi's. Let alone that he was taking care of the dogs.

She closed her eyes again. _Why does she always have to push herself?_

"Shouldn't you be sleeping?"

"The dogs woke me," Eleanor replied. She came to a halt besides the bench; Velvet could picture her pose without looking - slightly hesitant, still constrained by her damned Abbey reserve but at the same time too ridiculously insistent on trying to comfort everyone, even the so-called Lord of Calamity. Probably doing something awkward to distract herself with her hands. "Are they all right?"

"I think so. Phi's looking after them in his room. I.... thought it was probably best if I stayed away from them for a while." Not that she deserved it, as such, but it was probably going to be hard enough keeping them in line until this was all over. She didn't need to make the situation worse. 

"I've... never actually spent very much time around dogs. Are they sick? Do you think we should maybe get a doctor to look at them or something?"

Velvet fought the temptation to roll her eyes and looked up. "The only sickness they've got is 'daemonblight', and I think we're probably better off not having anyone notice that." If anything, they had been remarkably lucky that no one so far had taken note of the odd markings on the animals. Though Taliesin's residents did seem to be largely wrapped up in their own problems. Not that she blamed them. Even three years ago -

The thought slipped into her mind before she could stop it. "Besides, I think I'd rather not see any animal doctors in Taliesin."

"Why? I thought you'd never been here before?"

"I haven't." She made herself meet the exorcist's gaze. If she was going to keep being this weak and sentimental, the least she could do was not try and hide it. "Niko had. She was in love with a boy who'd just finished his apprenticeship as one."

_And why didn't I even consider that yesterday? After all those times she talked about - whatever the hell his name even was -_

_And even before that, the way she always wanted to go off and have adventures. She loved Aball, but she wanted to see the world, too. Not just the 'big city', but what lay beyond it, the roads and seas and... And then she just spends three more years in Aball by herself? Doing what? Waiting for me?_

_How **stupid** could I have been?_

Eleanor blinked, apparently having undergone a vaguely similar thought process. "Niko? But I thought you and she were - " She caught herself short. "I'm - I'm sorry. I don't mean to pry. I know I don't have the right to."

Velvet waved a hand to cut off the self-criticism. She'd already admitted (and not for the first time) how selfish she was. If the only thing stopping Eleanor from letting her keep talking about this was the exorcist's own silly morals, she might as well cut that short. It did help to let this out, at least a little. She didn't really deserve that, but she needed it._ I only have to keep focused just a little longer. Just one more therion, and then this can be over. I'll use any tool to get there. To get my revenge. I **have** to._

"No, it's fine. I forgot that the Niko you met was just part of the dream." She couldn't quite bring herself to openly invite Eleanor to sit next to her, but she edged over enough on the bench to make it clear that the other woman could if she wanted. Naturally - inevitably - Eleanor did. 

She caught a faint herbal scent and immediately put it out of her mind. Too many memories.

"You remember what Melchior said, that the dream was based on my deepest wishes. That included the Niko you met. Though I would have thought that would have been obvious already from when she said she didn't care that I was a daemon."

She'd absolutely known it was all a lie at that moment - maybe even more than when she'd heard that Laphicet was supposedly still alive - and she'd just let herself ignore it _again_.

A conversation she'd overheard earlier in the day came back to her. Magilou blithely addressing Eleanor's ongoing misery over how cruel the illusion had been - and how ridiculous was _that_? Both the way that Eleanor could still try to pretend to herself that the Abbey was anything but monstrously cruel, and the way how she seemed to think it was even possible for something like 'cruelty' to apply to stopping the Lord of Calamity? She'd been the one who destroyed the real Aball, and it was supposed to be _her feelings_ that were the problem?

She shook her head, coming back to the original thought - that Magilou had also known it was all just a dream, that she'd known that Velvet had known, and just accepted that. Not for the first time, she envied how the witch was able to just remain indifferent to... everything.

Except - was she really...? If she'd known, and hadn't said anything - and recognized the arte - what did that mean-? No. It wasn't important.

She forced herself to speak again, to make it very clear to Eleanor just what kind of person she was talking to. 

Not that it had ever worked in the past.

"...Magilou was actually right for once. I didn't need to taste something to know it was a dream. Not really. I think I knew all along. I was just too selfish to walk away until I had to admit the truth."

There was silence for a few moments. Velvet let herself avoid looking at the other girl. Another selfish act, but hardly one that mattered, in the big picture-

""You're not selfish, Velvet." Eleanor's voice was hesitant but clear. "Or at least, not any more than anyone else. If I had a chance to be with my mother again, even knowing it wasn't real-"

She cut off, but it had already been enough. Velvet turned and looked at her, mouth half-opening - then stopped. What would be the point? They weren't the same. Maybe if her life had just stopped at the Opening, losing Celica the way Eleanor had lost her mother, not to any fault of her own but just to daemons and malevolence and the whole wretched nature of this whole awful world... But it hadn't, and her village was gone for an entirely different reason than one harmless Southgand girl's.

_This was a mistake. Speaking about it just makes it worse. All I need to think about is revenge-_

"What _was_ she like? The real Niko?"

Velvet closed her eyes, then opened them to look at Eleanor. It was hard to tell in the dark, but the exorcist seemed to be blushing. Another part of that conversation she'd overheard came back to her, Magilou insinuating something particularly ridiculous even for her.

_...Still, why **does** she want to know?_

Then again, it didn't matter. Eleanor was trying to apologize again, but Velvet cut her short: "It's all right. I'm the one who killed her. Talking seems pretty small next to that."

Eleanor's gaze didn't flinch the way it should have. Because of course it didn't.

Part of her just wanted this conversation to be over, but the larger part again felt tempted to let herself talk. She didn't know whether it was guilt, or selfishness, or simple exhaustion; all she knew was that if Eleanor really wanted to hear this, she might as well tell her.

_Maybe then she'll get some sleep._

_And maybe then I can sleep._

_And not dream for a change._


	8. I'm Suddenly Feeling Thirsty Myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the Ceremony of Suppression comes with some inconvenient side effects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a short, silly idea I got quite a while ago, after watching one of the post-Mt Killaraus skits...

_How is it that this has actually gotten **worse**?_

Eleanor had lost track of the number of times her life had been turned upside down, and then turned over again, in the last few months. But if there was one bright side, it was how much that had helped her - at least she felt - grow as a person. Her answers to a world filled with unanswerable questions - feelings and justice and malevolence and suffering and... Well, they were still somewhat uncertain, and maybe unreachable, but they were _her_ answers. Not just repetitions of what someone else had told her. She didn't know if she'd done the right thing in the battles they'd just fought within Mount Killaraus, helping bring an end to the Ceremony of Suppression that had robbed the human race of its emotions, but she could be confident that she had been true to her own heart.

And as far as hearts went, she'd even been able to admit to herself that she could... well, love a daemon.

_So it really ought to be easier to stop getting distracted by staring at Velvet!_

She slammed the butt of her spear into the ground a little harder than she necessarily needed to help her keep her footing amid the white drifts. It hadn't been noticeable closer to the volcano, but it had apparently snowed heavily in the Gaiburk ice fields during the night, which did _not_ help the situation. Yes, on the one hand, it did provide a distraction in the form of having to carefully negotiate the uneven ground under her feet - but on the other hand, when she _did_ stumble it was usually Velvet (who seemed to have the easiest time moving around) that would steady her. Which inevitably gave her a view of lots of exposed, smooth, tanned (why did daemons even _get_ tans if they weren't affected by the elements?? As Velvet obviously was **not**) skin, and swelling-

She coughed and mopped her forehead. You'd think the cold would help there, but no...

And while she hadn't actually done it, closing her eyes probably wouldn't have helped either, because she'd still feel the strength in Velvet's arms, and that weird hot-cold soft-rough feeling of her human hand-

_This is **stupid**._

It had been a little easier earlier when she had been able to concentrate on how hungry she'd been suddenly feeling. It wasn't that she wanted to deny her humanity, exactly, certainly not now after they'd just fought to preserve what it meant to be human - but it still seem a little more appropriate to be thinking about such a universal lifelong need as food than something such as, um...

...different kinds of hunger...?

Unfortunately, once a brief conversation had made it clear that _everyone_ was feeling hungry - apparently as some sort of side-effect of the Suppression's end - it had made it a little less easy for her to distract herself that way. After all, they were all definitely going to get something to eat once they made it back to Meirchio, but there was no telling when she and Velvet would manage to find time to-

Or even if they should-

She shook her head.

And even dropping back in the formation and letting Velvet stay well ahead of her didn't do much good. Because while the snow was deep enough that she couldn't see much of Velvet's legs, she could see that long black stream of hair swaying back and forth, and so couldn't help but imagine/remember running her hands through it-

"Oh, this is just _ridiculous_!"

She reddened immediately afterward. She hadn't intended to say it out loud, and definitely not that loudly.

"Thank you!" Magilou exclaimed just as loudly. Eleanor couldn't help but give the witch a bit of a stare - for all her oft-repeated complaints about the cold, she certainly didn't seem to be having any difficult just walking back without trouble. "I've been _waiting_ for someone else to bring it up! Sure, I get the symbolism of fighting a battle for the souls of mankind in an ice-bound volcano." She flung an arm out. "On one side, the chill, sterile lifelessness of the frozen values of the Abbey! On the other, the eternal fires that blaze within the human heart! Where they collide, chaos! Calamity! Ca-"

"What _are_ you talking about?"

"How horrendously inconvenient the location of our semi-final battle just was!" Magilou said innocently. "Why, was that not what you were complaining about too just now?"

One of the other lessons Eleanor had taken from this journey was when it was best not to engage. She looked forward - right in time, unfortunately, for Velvet to have turned around to see what all the fuss was about. With a gulp she jerked her gaze up to make sure it was fixed on the other woman's eyes, which themselves were rising up to meet Eleanor's.

She stared at Velvet.

Velvet stared back.

The moments seemed to creep by even more awkwardly than before until Magilou suddenly interrupted with an "ohh. NOW I get it."

"Get what?" Laphicet said, puzzled. The young malak had gamely insisted on making his own way through the snow drifts, though he'd occasionally had to resort to a small-scale fire arte to melt some of them away.

Magilou grinned. (Eleanor winced again). "It's obvious, baby boy. Especially since knowing that old prune, he'd have probably just had us all reproduce with pollen if he could. It's just like before - if the end of the Suppression means that all of our buried feelings that can cause malevolence are going to come back at extra-strength, then of course that includes things like gluttony and sloth and lus-"

"Magilou!"

The witch ignored both the growl and glare from Velvet, putting two fingers to her forelock in a playful salute. "Right right, I get it, say no more! As soon as we get back to town, I'll make sure that there's a nice quiet hut set aside for just the two of you! Preferrably with a lock on the door - we have some pretty sketchy characters among us, you know! - and one of the larger beds-"

Eleanor yanked her spear out of the ground, set her boots a little higher on the snow, and resumed walking as fast she could.

(To cut the conversation short, of course.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant this to go up quite a while ago (possibly even Valentine's Day), but February was kind of a rough month. Hopefully I should now resume a more regular writing pace.


End file.
